


dooms of love

by Mertiya



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mae is Gil-galad's other dad, Mae is nonfunctional but he's trying desperately, Parenthood, Post-Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Treat Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: Gil-galad makes his way to Himring, searching for his fathers.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, maedhros & gil-galad
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47
Collections: Innumerable Stars 2020





	dooms of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falindis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falindis/gifts).



> title from "my father moved through dooms of love" by ee cummings

Cold and empty. Gil-galad won’t cry, he tells himself, standing in the open gates of Himring and staring inside at the snow piling up. He won’t cry. He may be a child but he’s _strong_. He made it all the way here, after all. And that wasn’t easy. He’s had to sneak past so many Orcs and other horrible things. He’s had to hunt his own food and keep himself safe. And he did all that. Because he’s strong.

He’s so tired of being trapped with strangers. He misses his fathers, and this is the only place he knows now where he thought he could be certain of finding them. But he was wrong, because Himring is empty and shadowed, the walls crumbling and huge drifts of snow piling up inside them. The wind howls through it like ghosts wailing their loneliness. Gil-galad feels despair welling up inside himself.

He’s not crying. He’s just sniffing because it’s so cold, and he’s so weary, so hungry, as he slips inside the gates and looks around. He rubs his face with his arm. He remembers when this place was warm and full of life, snatched rare moments when both his fathers were able to spar with him or read to him. When his uncle sang him to sleep. There are no songs here now.

Gil-galad wanders through the wreck and ruin, and he feels as if his younger self wanders with him, crying as he won’t cry. There is nothing here, nothing anywhere. Then he hears the sound of soft footsteps on snow and looks around, his heart leaping at the sight of the tall figure silhouetted in the gate, red hair streaming in the cold winter wind.

Now he might be crying, but he doesn’t think he cares anymore as he runs across the central courtyard calling out, “ _Atar! Atar!_ ”

His father stops still in the entrance, frozen, his face strange and blank. Gil-galad throws his arms around him. “I knew I’d find you here! I knew I would! Why did you send me away? Where is everyone? Where is Atya?”

His father stares at him, blinking. He passes a hand across his face. Then he stoops down, shivering, and puts his arms around Gil-galad and pulls him close. Gil-galad hugs him back, pressing his face into Atar’s chest. “I missed you so much, Atar.”

“Is this…the Halls of Mandos…?” Atar says questioningly, his voice strange, tight, hoarse. “I don’t recall a death…”

“What?” Gil-galad looks up at him. “No, we are at Himring. I came back to find you and Atya. It was very difficult, but I did it all by myself.”

His father’s green eyes widen. “You came from _Hithlum_?” he demands, his voice shaking. “All this way—all by yourself—how could they let you? Are you hurt?” He squeezes Gil-galad’s shoulders and down his arms. 

“No, not hurt,” Gil-galad tells him. “Very hungry, but fine.” He smiles. “I knew I would find you here. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.”

“You _foolish child_! How could you do such a thing!” Father is shouting—angry—terribly angry. Gil-galad’s stomach twists and sinks, and he pulls back.

“I just wanted…I’m _sorry_.” He’s sobbing, after all that he said he wouldn’t.

“No—no—don’t cry, I am sorry. Oh, my son—” His voice hitches, and Gil-galad cannot read it. He so rarely calls Gil-galad that, only occasionally when they are quite alone—although Gil-galad supposes they are alone, here. He sounds so strange, so lost, so…a lock of his hair brushes Gil-galad’s forehead, and Gil-galad frowns at it, then takes hold of it and inspects it. “Atar? Why are you wearing Atya’s ribbons in your hair?”

The look on Atar’s face is something Gil-galad will never forget, no matter how long he lives. He does not have words for it now. The next moment, Atar has pulled him into his chest again, and _he_ is sobbing, wailing really, clutching at Gil-galad, one hand in his hair, the other on his back. It is awful and he is holding so _tightly_ , but Gil-galad is suddenly very, very afraid as well. “Atar, Atar,” he says, over and over again, and now he is crying as well. Both of them are tangled up into a sobbing little mess, leaning against the snow-covered walls of Himring.

After a while, Gil-galad realizes there are words inside his father’s desperate sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t save him, I’ve failed you both, I’m so sorry—”

Atya—is gone, isn’t he?

Gil-galad clings to his father, and they both cry and cry as the snow and the wind howls about them. It is a long, long time before either of their sobs quiet. Atar strokes Gil-galad’s hair and holds him tightly. “I will have to get you somewhere safe,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with weeping.

“Do not send me away again,” Gil-galad begs, but his father’s face might be carved from stone, and he knows it is hopeless. He begins to cry again, and his father holds him close. He doesn’t murmur comfort, because that was what Atya did, always. Instead, he just holds Gil-galad tightly. Safe and protected, no matter what Atar thinks. But Gil-galad cannot make him understand it, and he can only hold on for now, while he still has one of his fathers, at least. 

He has his victory; he has found his father. It would not be better if he had not come. It would not be better.

**Author's Note:**

> No, don't ask me how baby Gil-galad got all the way to Himring. He's just that stubborn (on both sides of the family).


End file.
